Rejoice in Truth
by sweetcaroline
Summary: I am a boy of many secrets.


I am a boy of many secrets.

First, there is my obsession with Norah Jones.

It seems kind of corny, yes, for a fifteen-year-old boy who had never been artsy in any way, shape, or form to enjoy such a classy singer (and not only because of her appealing looks), which is definitely why I have never told anyone.

My older sister, Alice, loved Norah Jones, and would reiterate over and over to me how she "could solve any girls problems."

Alice stayed true to her belief, playing Norah whenever she felt down, whether it was when she didn't make the cheerleading squad or when our father had packed his bags and stormed out of our home in an angry rage.

"If Norah can solve any girls problems," I would ask my mother, Leslie, "Why can't she solve mine, too?"

"You can listen to Norah Jones CDs, if you like, Lawrence," my mother would reply, smiling and ruffling my hair jovially.

The summer after my sixth grade year, a tragedy occurred that attached me to Alice's Norah albums forever.

"Mom!" Alice had squealed, running down the stairs eagerly, the phone clamped tightly to her chest. "Kristi got her license! She's on her way over! Oh, please can I go for a ride with her?"

Mom looked up from the evening news, her brow furrowed. "When exactly did she get her license?"

Alice shrugged, trying to remain calm, though you could feel her excitement swelling by the minute. "I don't know, a couple of hours ago."

Seeing the apprehensive look that swept across our mother's face, Alice quickly spat out, "But Kristi's super responsible, you know her mom! She'll be a great driver!"

"Kristi is pretty nice," I piped in from my spot at the kitchen counter. Kristi was just about the only one of Alice's friends who went out of their way to talk to me, so I felt it was only right to return the favor.

Sighing, Mom glanced from me to Alice. "I really don't know."

"Come on, Mom," Alice pleaded, putting on her best pitiful face. "I won't stay out long! Please!"

"Alright," Mom gave in, hearing the horn honk from outside the window. "I guess you can go, but just half an hour or so, okay?"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Alice screeched, grabbing her coat and flying out the front door.

Two hours later, when Alice had yet to return, my mother was in hysterics.

"She won't answer her phone," she said, running a hand through her hair nervously. "I said thirty minutes. Did I not say thirty minutes, Lawrence?"

Before I got a chance to answer what I thought was probably a rhetorical question, the phone rang.

"Hello?" my mother said, picking up the phone hastily. "No," she mumbled, bringing her hand to her chest. "No. No, who is this? You're kidding, right? Right, of course. I'll be right there."

Alice died that night.

After the funeral, my mother insisted that Alice's room remain untouched, as some sort of sign of respect, but when she wasn't looking, I snuck in and took all of the Norah Jones CDs.

My second secret is my worst fear. Birds.

Stupid sounding I know, but seeing the beady eyes of a pigeon makes me want to crawl in a hole and scream for my mommy. (I've never seen the old Alfred Hitchcock movie, either.)

I don't even want to think about what my friends would say if they found out a blue jay could make me scream like a girl.

"You girl, Lawrence."

"Need your blankie and pacifier, Tsai?"

We used to live in this tiny house on a street called Mason Street. It was our first house after dad moved out, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, a small kitchen, and a living room with a black and white television, which would only work if you propped the antennas up exactly two inches on top of the T.V.

These evil birds, which my mom, sister, and I used to call the 'Motley Crew', would swoop down and attack every time you stepped out of the house.

"Oh, I'm just going out to get groceries," Mom would say, just before one of the Motley Crew would peck her brand new blonde bob.

"Mom, I'll be back after soccer," Alice would yell into the house as a pigeon pecked the soccer ball out of her hands.

One night, I had a dream about the Motley Crew and their most vicious attack yet.

"Goodbye," I called, shutting the door behind me, as my dream world turned to slow motion.

Suddenly, three birds swooped down, one landing in the middle of my head, the other two beginning to peck harshly at my shoulders. As I swatted at the two on my shoulders, the third began to pick hairs from my head. Before I knew it, body parts were strewn carelessly across our front porch, and I woke up petrified.

My third secret is one that I have kept since the fourth grade. I have been in love with my best friend Katie Brown since the day we met.

"Alright class," my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Leonard said, clasping her old, wrinkly hands together. "Time to pair up for your projects. Let's see… Josh and Lewis, Olivia and Julie, Lawrence and Katie…"

As she stated our names I felt eyes lock on me and the young, brown-eyed girl seated in the front row. We were the first boy/girl pair in the class, meaning we'd me the first to get cooties.

After Mrs. Leonard ordered us to begin the project, Katie walked over to me.

"Hello, Lawrence," she said brightly.

"Why are you so happy?" I asked dryly, eyeing the snickering boys around me.

"I'm always happy," she replied simply, plopping down into the seat next to mine.

It's true. She is always happy, always cares, and always tells me everything… even if I don't want to know.

"One scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough," Katie says today, handing me a cone of our favorite ice cream.

"Thank you," I reply, as she flings herself down on the bench next to me.

"So, why did you want to talk to me?" she asks, taking a big lick out of her ice cream cone. I gulp.

"'Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth.'" I quote absent-mindedly, a trail of ice cream running down my hand.

"1 Corinthians," Katie says questioningly, taking another lick of ice cream. "What's that mean?"

"I'm scared of birds."

**I really am scared of birds. That whole part was true... I don't think that this is that great, but I think it's alright. Review and let me know!**


End file.
